Smooth
by Emerald Embers
Summary: Lothlorien seems to breed strangeness. Legolas/Boromir


Rest was not something to be found easily by any human in Lothlorien. Boromir had thought little of the logic to that, had not considered how humans lacked the unquestioning nature of hobbits or the easy comfort found by dwarves wherever they lay their heads to rest. Lack of sleep had been matter of fact to him after so long spent worrying for his people, his family and the fellowship. That damned ring preyed on his mind, its power to destroy making him wonder what would become of Mordor's armies if sent up against a military leader who carried it. He had not thought anything amiss in his sleeplessness and had not hidden it accordingly.

Legolas' presence had been somewhat unexpected, Boromir having imagined the elf to be either asleep or joining in the lament of his kin, their voices as soft and eerie on the air as the strange lights were on Lothlorien's structures. And yet the elf had come, fair features seeming paradoxically to be stranger and at the same time more fitting in Lothlorien's glow.

"Come with me."

Frightening as it was to let the elf lead him in a place he could never and would never wish to understand he had allowed himself to be taken to an alcove, guided by the hypnotically soft voice into lying down. If there had been more conversation he scarcely remembered it, even though surely it must have happened - Boromir did not typically lie with men, no matter how fair, but he recalled no protest when the elf dexterously eased him out of trousers and underclothes, removing only the minimum to allow himself access so he could oil an erection Boromir didn't remember getting before impaling himself on it.

There was no warmth to the intimacy, though it was intimacy nonetheless; there was no closer contact with a man than to be held between his thighs. Even if it was a detached sequence of actions Legolas looked undeniably beautiful, smooth-skinned and pale - paler for the lights, lips slightly parted and breath unsteady. The elf's eyes held a clear enough message too, that the need for this had been physical, not emotional, and it seemed strange to find that this surrendering of body separate from spirit seemed to have an effect that lengthened rather than shortened their union. Sleeplessness might have contributed to that as well, all actions seeming slower somehow in the lengthened days and nights.

Though Boromir did not typically lie with men it would be dishonest to say the thought had never crossed his mind before. On longer stretches of the journey he had caught himself weighing up Legolas, measuring beauty held in the elf's light, slender-legged stride, the balance of masculine and feminine features and soft voice. On a very base level he'd preferred sleeping closer to Legolas than to others because his scent never carried the musk of the other males in the fellowship and the elf's hair had been reminiscent of a woman's from behind, slipping across shoulders that were only a little too wide, back a little too broad.

Even nearing orgasm there was nothing feral in Legolas, the increased speed of his movements calm, almost precise, seeming to know what Boromir's body wanted and granting those desires. Boromir had been unable to hold back one moan when watching Legolas lick his lips, that tiny expression of lost control doing things to his insides he hadn't expected, but Legolas kept his own near silence of quickened breath and little else.

Legolas came mere moments before he did, breathing out his orgasm in long, slightly vocal sighs, tightening around Boromir in such a way that he was bound to follow had the sight of the elf's face in orgasm not been enough. Watching a face as fair and perfect as Legolas's expressing feelings as base as climax was ruinous, an image that imprinted itself on the soul.

Legolas cleaned both of them up swiftly afterwards, the swiftness and efficiency of his movements almost like someone trained in nursing wounds, but even with that in mind Boromir was still surprised when the elf made to leave moments afterwards. "Get some rest. You clearly need it."

"Why don't you stay?" Boromir asked, genuinely puzzled even as fatigue and the bonelessness of orgasm conspired to make him sleep at last.

Legolas simply smiled a little before shaking his head. "Humans. This is nothing. I am not yours to keep."

.

Waking proved the elf correct, sleep having made the experience seem less significant though not cheapened either. For what it was worth, it seemed what happened in Lothlorien, stayed in Lothlorien, as if little more than a trick of the mind.


End file.
